


Leave Me to My Silver Spoons

by thecoldlightofday



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoldlightofday/pseuds/thecoldlightofday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://dont-call-me-delilah.tumblr.com">Dont-call-me-delilah</a> asked for “<span>It’s Valentine’s Day and Lori & Carl just happen to be out of town which is fine with Rick because he wants to spend it with Shane.”</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Me to My Silver Spoons

Lori had asked him to come along with her and Carl as he finished packing up the car. There was a sharp edge to the question, like she hadn’t meant it entirely. Like there were only two answers—right and wrong and there was a trap in there somewhere, depending on which Rick chose.

He had shrugged. “Crime doesn’t stop for Valentine’s Day.”

Lori’s only response was silence that mingled with the cold indifference that had descended upon the two of them, thicker lately, though always present. Rick was looking forward to the calm quiet of the next two days. Just work and home and Shane, no Lori staring at him like she wanted, needed—this thing he had no idea how to give.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” he said after Lori pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her breath puffed a warm line from his jaw to his ear.

Carl was slumped in the backseat, not ready to be awake so early in the day. The morning was crisp and pretty and the wind smelled like ice. Rick tucked the blanket around Carl in tighter as he leaned in and ran his fingers through Carl’s hair. “I love you,” he said, loud enough Lori knew it was meant for her too.

There was something sad and uncertain, different from the usual soft passion or raging fire, in the blank way Lori said “I know.” She shot him one last look and the resignation he saw there was bitterly beautiful in her face. He watched her pull out of the driveway, his fingers numb, breath cutting white through stray flakes of snow. The sky opened, the snow small as pinpricks as it fell. He watched the car until it was nothing but a dot of dark on the road.

Shane came by the house that night after work. The winter sun was just setting behind him, dreary sky reflecting pink and violet in the patches of melted snow. He dangled a six pack from his fingertips. He was flushed from the cold.

“Please tell me you weren’t expecting flowers,” Shane said, laughing, when Rick opened the door.

“From you?” He took the six pack from Shane and pushed the front door shut with his socked foot. “Never.”

The house was comfortable inside. Rick had the heater going, the kitchen lit up. He was debating trying to boil broccoli on the stove. It was a far cry from Lori humming as she moved from the oven to sink to stove and Carl tried to finish his homework so he could watch TV. He missed that—the bustle of his family—so strongly that he froze.

Shane must have sensed the change in him. He plucked the beer from Rick’s arm and put it in the fridge, licking his lips as he offered

“We could order pizza?”

Rick shook his head and gestured toward the oven. “Lori left me lasagna.” The lasagna was still where Lori had left it for him, in a pan on the top shelf of the refrigerator, covered with a thin sheet of cellophane, the heating instructions written in sticky note on the top. She’d drawn a heart around his name, like she hadn’t since they started going out years and years before.

Shane shook his head. “Not feeling it. Chinese okay with you?”

“Sure.”

Shane got the door when the food came. He tossed Rick his wallet when he flopped back down onto the couch, a grease stained paper bag in each hand. “You paid for dinner, figured it’s fair since I brought the beer.” Shane dug into the bags without waiting for an answer, hauling out half a dozen different cartons, packets of soy sauce, and a Styrofoam container of egg rolls.

They ate mostly in silence. Every so often one of them would get a few words out in-between bites or Shane would go ahead and talk with his mouth full. By the time they finished, the coffee table—Lori’s coffee table that she had picked out—was littered with empty cardboard cartons and the noodles that hadn’t made it to Shane’s mouth.

“You’re a terrible houseguest,” he muttered, watching Shane use Rick’s chopstick to spear the last of the shrimp.

“Yeah but my smile lights up a room.”

Rick had to agree with Shane there. His smile was something special.

Shane helped him clean up after, as if he had something to prove. He wiped the coffee table down with exaggerated flourish while Rick brought out the now cold beer. The only light in the room was the television.

“You should have gone with her,” Shane said, out of nowhere. His eyes were focused on the game. He followed the sentence with a long swallow of beer.

Rick blinked. “What?” He had to take moment to consider what Shane had said. The answer was obvious. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I know,” Shane replied. He sounded guilty—head down and voice low. “But in the long run man, you always gotta go with her.”

Rick swallowed thickly. Shane was rapidly approaching taboo. Over a decade and they hadn’t talked about it. It wasn’t something they brought up, it was something they felt, instances that happened, that were then never mentioned again. The words for it were ugly, biting and jagged, things like faggot and _affair_.

He didn’t think about it that way. It was only ever him and Shane.

“I love her,” he said, but his voice wavered, and he had to cough until it cleared. “I love her, Shane.”

Shane looked away. He stood up, hands in his pockets. His face was turned away as he said

“I should go.”

“No.” Rick was on his feet just as quickly. He grabbed Shane by the shoulders, palms sliding up Shane’s neck and up his jaw and over his ears. He forced Shane to look at him. “Stay.”

There was more in Shane’s eyes than Rick could have ever imagined, each emotion crackling like fire—love and guilt and fear. It was how Shane always looked at him, Rick realized, and it took his breath away.

He felt the rhythm of his heart beating in his head.

Shane kissed him—the movement of their mouths together was lazy and slow. Rick cupped the side of Shane’s face gently, put his other hand on the back of Shane’s neck. When they broke apart, Shane’s lips were dark pink, full and kiss heavy.

“I…” Rick wanted to say something profoundly honest, something that would fit the warm way Shane’s nose slotted beside his.

“I got it,” Shane said to him. He shoved Rick down onto the couch and climbed on top of him. His weight pressed Rick into the cushions.

Rick was reminded of their first time. The way Shane had stared up at him, eyes hard, focused on the feeling of Rick pushing in. He had the same rough edge, an intensity of want for Rick that hadn’t softened through the years.

Shane got their pants open, pushed up off Rick enough to pull his off completely. He had that gleam in his eyes, like he already had an idea of what he wanted to do. One Rick didn’t get until Shane slid their cocks together, face flushed and pretty, mouth wet and open, as he took them both in his hand. They rocked together while Shane jerked them both off. 

Rick didn’t know which he was supposed to focus on, Shane’s hand or Shane’s mouth burning at his neck. None of that compared to the sight of Shane on top of him, skin shining, shirt open and naked below the waist. Shane straddling his lap this way was the hottest thing Rick had ever known. Shane’s thighs, thick and solid, his cock and his hand working it—the two of them, Shane’s dick hot alongside his—and the way his hips and stomach opened up into broad shoulders and a wide chest.

“I’m tired,” Rick groaned, not sure where he was going, if he was going to regret what he had to say.

“Huh?” Shane asked, sex wrecked and hoarse like it took all his effort for just that word.

“Of choosing.” He grabbed at Shane’s back, fingers between his shoulder blades, before he clutched at Shane’s ass, pulled him closer for more friction.

That did something to Shane, made his hand squeeze tighter. Rick felt each exhalation of Shane’s breath. Shane panted, fist slick and messy, body jerking as he came. Shane went still, took a moment to collect himself, before he really got to work. Wrapped his come wet hand around Rick and jacked him, hand pumping up and down so easy The whole time Shane was whispering to him, kissing one cheek and then the other before kissing his mouth. It felt like forever until he came himself, pleasure unfurling deep inside him while he splashed onto his belly and Shane’s belly and Shane’s chest. Shane stroked him through, just the way he liked it, long touches from the head to the base. Kept on whispering, _hey hey I got you, shh_ , and swallowed Rick’s helpless groaning. Kissed him over and over too.

Rick tipped his head back, eyes closed, and drew in a ragged breath. Shane was still on top of him, the two of them pressed together chest to chest. It was another few minutes before Rick regained his ability to speak.

“Wow.”

“Mhm,” Shane agreed, grabbing a few leftover napkins as he cleaned up. He wiped Rick down gently before he did himself. “Happy Valentine’s Day, brother.”

The game was on highlights when he and Shane were both fully clean and dressed. Shane picked up like nothing had happened, legs crossed on the coffee table at the ankle, stealing huge drinks of Rick’s beer.

“You still wish I’d gone?” Rick asked, feeling content and brave and a little stupid. He covered Shane’s hand on the couch beside him with his.

“Nah, there’s nowhere I’d rather have you be than here.”


End file.
